


23. Getting Used To Coming Home...

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [23]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for heavy anal play, heavy verbal humiliation, anal rose (google that term if you are not familiar before reading) and rimming</p>
    </blockquote>





	23. Getting Used To Coming Home...

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for heavy anal play, heavy verbal humiliation, anal rose (google that term if you are not familiar before reading) and rimming

Deciding that the gods are smiling on him, Stephen waves off his driver with a grin. Due to some technical issues, he's finished work two hours earlier than he'd anticipated. He heads into the building and grins at the door man, ridiculously pleased that he can sail past and make his own way up to Antony's place - with his own key. Indeed minutes later, he pushing open the front door and calling out. "Hey honey, I'm home!"

Antony's eyes widen at the sound of Stephen's voice and he flips the blueprints over on the coffee table, his phone still pressed against his ear. "Someone's here. I gotta go," he tells Marcus.

"Who? You still didn't tell me who we're using in place of the Russian," Marcus points out, not used to being dismissed so abruptly.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," Antony says and hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket and heading for the front door. "Hey. You're early. Playing hooky?" he teases.

"We finished early," Stephen drops his bag and kicks off his shoes. "Did I interrupt anything? Were you on the phone?" Stephen opens one arm for a hug.

"Yeah, but I was almost done anyway," Antony says, hugging Stephen tight and giving him a kiss. "I missed you," he admits, not caring how it sounds. "How was work?"

"It was good actually, we were on a roll, until this problem with one of the camera rigs. Should be fixed by the morning though, so I might have to do a little extra tomorrow to catch up." He squeezes Antony back. "But I would love a beer, and a shower, and then...what ever we decide to do," he grins.

Antony grins back. "I have steaks marinating and a salad in the fridge and there's ice cream, but no rush on any of it," he says, arm around Stephen's waist as they make their way to the kitchen and he grabs two beers from the fridge. He cracks them both open, tossing the caps in the bin, and hands one over to Stephen.

"Hmm," Stephen raises his bottle in salute before taking a long drink from it. He belches as he lowers it, covering his mouth with the back of his hand with a soft. "Excuse me!"

"So Master of mine, are we playing tonight, or just vegging with a movie?" he asks, taking a second drink.

Antony glances at the time on the stove. "Can't we do both?"

"Sure," Stephen nods, more than happy with that counter offer.

"Good." Antony grins. "Finish your beer, grab your shower and then I'll put your collar on. I made you a promise this morning and I intend to keep it. After that, you can relax while I make dinner and then we'll watch our movie."

"Hmm, bossy, just like my director," Stephen teases with a quirked brow as he lifts his beer again. "I like it."

"I thought you might appreciate a firm hand," Antony says, obviously teasing back. "Speaking of which, how do you feel about being spanked?" It's not something they've really touched on, aside from a slap or two during fucking.

"Well, it's been a long while since I had an over the knee style smack," Stephen shrugs. "If it's spanking for spanking's sake then I don't know...if it's part of a larger scene, maybe with humiliation and some anal? Yeah sure." And just the thought of it has his dick twitching. Hmmm.

"I'm getting the impression that pretty much anything combined with humiliation and some anal would do it for you," Antony says, but it's so far from a complaint it's not even funny. God. Could he have found a more perfect boy?

Another shrug and a grin. "You push those buttons so well, so sue me," he winks and drains his beer, dropping the bottle on the counter with a determined thunk. "Shower...collar," he backs up, his brows popping before he turns and head to the bathroom.

Antony watches Stephen go, his cock jerking lightly in anticipation. He turns to finish his beer, mind switched back to work mode for a moment as he rolls up the blueprints and puts them away and sorts through some names in his head, making a short list of people who could replace the Russian on this upcoming job. The right person chosen he texts Marcus with a codename he knows the other man will understand and settles on the couch with a second beer in hand, a tube of lube set on the table beside him.

He's naked when he returns, his body thrumming with anticipation. Stephen finds Antony relaxed on the couch beer in hand. "Did you have my collar?" he asks softly as he steps up.

"It's on the counter. Bring it over," Antony says, setting his beer aside.

A brief nod and Stephen retrieves the leather collar, he lets his fingers play over it before he offers it to Antony and then sinks to his knees before his Sir.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, leaning forward to fasten the leather around Stephen's throat. "Give me a kiss."

Rising up onto his knees, Stephen reaches out to wrap a hand around the back of Antony's neck, he leans in, offers his mouth.

Antony kisses Stephen deeply, firmly, tongue delving between his lips. He nips at his mouth with a smile then kisses his way along Stephen's jaw and down his throat, lips pressed against the edge of his collar.

Tilting his head Stephen offers Antony all the room he needs to kiss his skin. His eyes close and he murmurs nonsense noises, "I am yours Sir," he whispers - it's unnecessary - but the words always feel good in his mouth.

"Yes, you are," Antony murmurs, resisting the urge to mark his boy, mouth hovering over his skin. "Mine." He sits back a little, wrapping his fingers around Stephen's cock and stroking slowly instead. "Every inch of you."

"Inside and out," Stephen confirms softly, his breath hitching at the intimate, knowing caress.

Smiling at that, Antony keeps stroking, slowly, almost gently, thumb rubbing over the head, smearing the precome welling in the slit there.

It's a new approach, but Stephen's under no illusions that this is merely a means to lull him into a false sense of security. At some point he fully expects his wicked and inventive Sir to switch up to something harder, having said that, he's not about to miss the opportunity to savour this gentleness while it's on offer.

"Feels good?" Antony says, wrapping his other hand around Stephen's balls and rolling them just as slowly and gently.

"Yes, you know it does Sir, you know how to play me..." Stephen murmurs, opening his eyes to lock gazes with his Sir. "It's wonderful."

"And this?" Antony says, starting to tighten his grip on Stephen's balls, his hand still gliding over his cock, eyes locked on his boy's face.

"Is wonderful Sir," Stephen's reply is lower, but just as honest and heart felt. The taste of pain is applied to perfection, not so much as to jar, but more than enough to nudge him into the slide into subspace.

"And these. Shouldn't ignore these," Antony murmurs, dropping his head to Stephen's chest, mouth closing around one perfect nipple, sucking it roughly as his hands continue their work.

"Oh!" Stephen's eyes widen, and he sways on his knees slightly. His hands now firmly tucked out of the way in the small of his back. "Sir..." he murmurs, as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

Moving back and forth, Antony sucks at both nipples until they're red and rigid before biting down on the first, teeth digging in sharply.

"Fuck!" The expletive is spit out before he can think better of it, and even as he's pulling away, intensifying the hurt. Stephen's cock kicks up in Antony's hand, spurting precum in response.

Antony sits back, his hands stilling. "You want to explain yourself, boy?"

Stephen blinks, and a cold hard lump settling in his belly. He licks over his bottom lip before replying, "I have no excuse Sir, I was caught off guard, but I should have been able to modify my language. This boy apologises."

"And you think that's good enough, pig?" Antony says, his voice soft but edged as he drops his hands from Stephen's cock and balls.

If it wasn't for the 'pig' that punctuated that question, Stephen would be certain he's crossed a line and that he's upset his Sir. But...the use of 'pig'...it's a word that Antony knows pushes Stephen's buttons, so the use of it has him unsure of his response. Is this part of the scene that Sir wants to play out? Or is he genuinely being reprimanded. His uncertainty is clear, but Stephen replies with a soft. "No, not at all Sir."

"And here I was thinking you deserved to have my hands and mouth..." Antony shakes his head in pretend disgust, reaching for the lube and handing it to Stephen. "Prep your cunt, you filthy piece of shit."

 _It's play...it has to be play..._ Stephen takes the lube, the words not quite having the same effect that they might if he wasn't so unsure of himself.

"Yes Sir," Stephen's chin drops, his tone soft, he flips open the lube and squirts some over his fingers.

There's something wrong, something not quite where it should be in terms of Stephen's response and Antony reaches out, lifting Stephen's chin for a moment, so he can see his eyes. "We're good, okay? I'm not angry with my boy."

"It's just play?" Stephen asks softly, going still.

Antony nods, cursing himself for ruining his boy's headspace. "You won't ever hear those words from my mouth without it being play, and definitely not in anger."

A small nod and then Stephen drops his gaze, takes a deep breath and blows it out. "Can we please continue?"

"Of course," Antony says, sitting back, his legs spread, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. "Now do as I told you. Prep that cunt."

It's the perfect task to get his head back into the scene, it gives him space to readjust his mindset, and something physical to ground himself with. Bending, over, and making certain his Sir can see, Stephen spends the next few minutes fingering and stretching himself open.

It's already been far too long since Antony last fucked Stephen, his cock aching something fierce as he watches his boy. Begging to be buried inside him. But Antony tamps down on his own desire, determined to push his boy further first. One bare foot reaching out to push at Stephen's balls. "You can do better than that, you piece of shit. I want your filthy pig cunt fucking gaping."

This time the words hit the mark, and Stephen mewls at them, at the physical reaction he has to that tone. Once more he's leaning down on his forehead, both hands now, fingers circling his hole as he stretches it, pulling and teasing himself more open.

"Keep going," Antony orders, his jeans unzipped, his cock freed. "You know what I want from you, you nasty little fuck pig? I want you to finger that cunt of yours until you can give me a rose to fuck."

It's not so easy to produce when he's not been recently fucked, but Stephen lets one hand search out the tube of lube, he adds more to the crease of his ass, then cones his fingers to fuck himself, adding that extra stretch and tension. When he feels the give he's back to using his fingertips to tease the flesh out to make the rose his Sir has demanded.

Fuck. Antony's head swims at the sight, all blood having fled south. He shifts from the couch, onto his knees behind Stephen, the head of his cock rubbed over that soft wet flesh. "You keep it out there, pig," he murmurs.

"Yessir," Stephen whispers, his fingers still working at it even as Antony shuffles in behind him and starts to touch him. "M'your pig..."

"Yes, you are," Antony agrees. "You're my fuck toy, my dirty little fuck pig..." His hand wrapped around his cock, pushing just the head into that beautiful fucking rose, teasing them both.

Now Stephen can let go, and he uses his hands to brace himself better, to lift his head from the floor. Totally lost in this now he lets himself go, knowing he is safe, that there is nothing he won't do.

"Push it out, pig," Antony orders, fucking just the crown in and out. "You keep it out there for me. Keep that cunt nice and wide open, that rose right out there for me."

He has to bear down to do it, and concentrate, but that's no chore, because it means he's focused on the sensation of his body being exposed and the slip and slide of his Sir's cock as he toys with him.

"Christ, you're so fucking filthy. Nothing but a nasty dirty fuck pig," Antony muses, pushing in a little more, the sight of his cock surrounded by all that slick red flesh spilling a ragged groan from his lips.

"Please....please use me..." Stephen murmurs, "Please Sir, use me..." he begs, fingers clawing at the flooring as he tries to stop himself rocking back. "Use this pig as a cum dump...s'all he's good for."

"I'll use him alright," Antony growls, grasping Stephen's hips with his hands, his cock fucked into Stephen's rose, pushing it back into his body with thrust after thrust.

The air is suddenly being punched out of Stephen as Antony ups the force of his thrusts, his soft mewling, needy noises morph into something decidedly more desperate and much louder, he gifts his Sir with each pained sound, begging for more with every inch of his body.

Antony drives in faster, harder, deeper, teeth gritted as he puts _everything_ into fucking his boy. Into using his fuck toy as he's meant to be used.

Pushing back to meet every brutal thrust Stephen soaks it all up, the passion, the need, the fucking dominance that just rolls off his Sir in waves. Antony always pushes him; right to the point he's starting to think he can't take much more, and that's a skill, because each time he pushes Stephen just a little further. Deepening his experience and their connection.

Pleasure rolling up from the base of his spine, Antony fucks into Stephen's already battered hole even harder, feeling like he's trying to bury himself in his boy before his orgasm slams through him and he comes with a shout, flooding his boy's cunt with his hot heavy seed.

Stephen holds his position, right up to the point that Antony starts to sag against him, a sign he can relax at last. His head hangs low between is braced arms and he pants, licking over dry lips. His Sir is gusting harsh breaths over the sweat skin of his back.

"Remember what I promised you in Fiji?" Antony murmurs, breathing heavily, a grin curving his lips, not at all expecting Stephen to really recall.

Stephen swallows, and shakes his head. "No Sir," he murmurs, raising one hand to wipe sweat from his forehead with the heel of his hand.

Antony pulls out, sitting back on his heels, hands still on Stephen's hips. "I want to see that rose again. Push it out for me."

It's easier now he's been fucked, so Stephen doesn't need to reach back and ease it out with his fingers, instead he bares down, flexing internal muscles until the flesh protrudes and he feels the slick slide of cum as it escapes. His whole body is still vibrating with tension, his cock, though not hard now, is still dripping strings of precum to the floor beneath him.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, leaning in, his tongue darting out to lick over the hole in the rose, scoop the come that's spilling free.

It's like electricity, the sensation is so sharp, so intense. "oh....f..." he bites off the curse, but he screws up his face and rocks on his hands and knees.

Antony licks all around the rose, all around the slick wet flesh, using his fingers to pull it a little more from Stephen's body, his entire mouth closed around it, sucking.

It's too much, too much sensation when he has nothing to fight against. Hands clenched tight, Stephen drops down onto his elbows, and stuffs one of his fists in his mouth, biting on it as he howls out a noise that might be pain.

Surprised by the sound, Antony pulls back. "You want me to stop, boy?"

"I..um...I..." Stephen stutters, turning his head a little, he's almost incoherent with head space and the things being done to him, "don't...don't know..."

"Okay. You tell me if you want me to," Antony says, dragging his tongue lightly over the rose. "Tell me yellow if you're not sure - and you have permission if you need it." The tip of his tongue gently pushed into his boy's hole.

The words don't really register, he hears 'yellow' and 'stop' but nothing more makes much sense. Stephen braces himself again and sure enough, moments later his body lights up again, and he's biting on his fist, his body shuddering in response.

Antony licks into Stephen's hole, into the rosebud, deep and then deeper, gently fucking him with his tongue, one hand reached under to stroke his fingers along Stephen's only half-hard cock.

Whimpering Stephen becomes aware his hand is wet, he lifts his mouth away, finds it's spit from where he's drooled, his knuckles are bruised from where he's been biting them. He opens his mouth to say something, but he can't form words and instead he grunts a noise, his body shaking.

"Good boy," Antony murmurs, pulling back, his hands moving gently over Stephen's hips, working to soothe him. "It's okay. We're done now."

The sensations change, the intensity falls away and Stephen finds he is able to focus a little, his breathing settles a little.

"My good boy," Antony says, pulling on Stephen's hips a little, urging him to lie down or lean back, whichever feels better, right. "It's time to come back to me."

That at least makes some sense, and with a soft sigh of relief Stephen simply collapses into a heap, his arms and knees giving out. He's glassy eyed, unfocused but his breathing is evening out, his shivering easing.

Antony gently rubs Stephen's back, giving his boy some time and space to surface. "You make me so happy," he says softly. "You're my good boy and I'm so proud of you." It doesn't matter whether Stephen's making sense of the words or not, but it matters to Antony that he says them and sometimes tone is more important than content.

Stephen's eyes slide shut for a minute or so, he lets that touch and his Sir's voice ground him. "Sir," Stephen manages to form the word, and the corner of his mouth curves a little. "My Sir..."

Antony smiles. "Yours," he agrees, leaning in to press a kiss to his boy's shoulder. "Now come back to me, Stephen."

A small frown creases Stephen's forehead, as if he doesn't like that particular order. Licking over his bottom lip he then blows out a breath. "Do I have to?" he whispers.

"No, you don't," Antony says with a smile, both a little surprised and a little amused by the request. "You can stay down here while I make dinner," he continues, reaching over Stephen to pull a throw down from the other couch and wrap it around his boy. "If you need anything, I'll be right over there." A kiss pressed to his temple.

Stephen closes his eyes again, tugging the throw closer and burrowing under it a little more. "Thank you," he murmurs at the kiss.

Antony stands, staring down at his boy for a moment before he heads for the powder room to quickly wash up. His clothes righted, he checks on Stephen again, making sure he's still wrapped up before he starts dinner. He fires up the indoor grill and pulls two trays from the cupboard beside the oven, figuring they can eat in the other bedroom and Stephen can stay wrapped up.

It's rather lovely to just lay there in the aftermath of his subspace, his body slowly returning to normal, listening to his Sir potter around. The soft clangs of kitchenware, the snicks of cupboard doors opening and closing. He slowly uncurls, yawns and flexes his feet.

Antony puts the finishing touches on the salad, sets the steaks on the grill, pulls the steak sauce from the fridge and cuts a baguette into slices. He considers a bottle of wine but suspects they'll both be asleep in no time with that and opts for a fresh beer each.

Pushing up onto one elbow Stephen has a look around, to get his bearings before he rolls slowly to his feet, the throw falling away. He takes a moment once he's upright before he heads slowly toward the bathroom.

Watching Stephen go, Antony keeps quiet, not wanting to disturb whatever time and space his boy needs to himself. He flips the steaks, sets the timer again and sets both trays with the plates and cutlery they need.

Stephen uses the toilet, then cleans himself thoroughly before washing his hands and splashing water on his face. He winces at his knuckles, and peers at them as if trying to remember why they're sore. Teeth marks pepper the skin and he shakes his head before padding out to the bedroom to retrieve some shorts, which he carries back to Antony. "May I put these on Sir?" he asks softly.

"Yeah," Antony nods. "Go ahead. You hungry?"

"Yes, thank you," Stephen bends to pull on the shorts, and then makes his way to where he'd dropped the throw, he picks it up and wraps it around his shoulders, not for any warmth in might infer, but the comfort of it. He looks around - the floor and the couch. "Where should I sit?"

"On the bed in the guest bedroom," Antony says. "I'm almost done here. We can watch TV while we eat."

Stephen nods, watches Antony for a few moments as he moves around plating up their food. "Can I help? Take anything through," he offers quietly.

"You can take the beers," Antony says, picking up one tray, Stephen's tray, "and the steak sauce." He follows Stephen into the guest room, watching while his boy gets settled and then placing the tray on his lap. "I'll be right back."

Stephen waits for Antony to return, eyes on the door almost as if he's holding his breath until his Sir is back in his sights.

"Want to watch our movie now, or after dinner?" Antony asks, coming back with his own tray.

"After dinner please," Stephen murmurs, eyes following every movement Antony makes, his own food untouched as he waits for his Sir to start first.

"This okay then?" Antony asks, flicking through the channels to some comedy festival when he notices Stephen's not eating. He sets the remote down and cuts into his own steak, taking a bite of it and then the salad.

Making a noise of assent Stephen picks up his own silverware then utters a soft, "Yes thank you Sir," as if he's decided, what was essentially a grunt wasn't an acceptable reply. He then sets about his food with single minded focus, eating steadily and silently, his beer untouched.

"Make sure you save room for ice cream," Antony says, watching Stephen, wondering if he should make a conscious effort to bring his boy more fully out of the subspace he's still very obviously in.

"I will," Stephen nods between bites, but he says nothing more and soon clears his plate before setting aside the tray and drawing his knees up and wrapping the throw around himself.

Antony finishes his meal more slowly, letting Stephen stay where he is for the moment, but when he's done and he sets his own tray aside, he turns to his boy, moving in closer. "You've been very good for me and I'm proud of the way you handled yourself tonight but I need you to come back to me, Stephen."

Stephen blinks slowly, as if he doesn't understand what Antony's asking of him. Then he nods, and dips his head for a moment. "I need a hug," he says softly as his head comes back up.

Antony wraps his arms around Stephen and hugs him close. "You can have a hug anytime you want, Stephen," he murmurs, using his lover's name again for good measure.

Stephen burrows his face into Antony's neck. "You feel good, you smell good," he smiles into stubbled skin. "You smell of sex."

"I smell like you," Antony murmurs, eyes crinkling. "You were so fucking hot."

"Was I? You fried my brain." Stephen wriggles in closer and pushes the throw out of the way so there's less fabric between them. "Tell me."

"I made you give me your rose again, just using your fingers and pushing it out," Antony says, his cock starting to thicken again at the memory, "and I called you all sorts of names and then I fucked it. Slowly and then harder - until I was fucking you as hard as I could. And you took it all."

"It's not easy to do you know, without being fucked first," Stephen lets his fingers play over the dip in the centre of Antony's chest. "But then you do things to me...push me..."

"I love pushing you," Antony murmurs, brushing a kiss along the curve of Stephen's jaw. "And I don't mind when it's too much." He smiles. "I tried rimming you like I promised in Fiji but it was after I fucked you, so it was too intense, maybe even painful."

"Hmmm," Stephen hums thoughtfully, as he replays that latter part of their scene and tries to understand what was happening to him that it played out like it did. "Yeah, intense, like...you don't know what to do with yourself intense, can't stay still, but you can't move _enough_ to counteract it."

Antony picks up Stephen's hand, gently running his thumb over the bitten knuckles. "Maybe I should restrain you the next time? Then you'd have something to react against."

"Next time?" Stephen glances up with a smile. "Yeah, that might help, a different head space might help too, I don't know," he shrugs. "The humiliation pushes me down really far, s'like being underwater...I can't even think." He looks down at his knuckles. "I knew I'd done that, but not why."

"So you'd prefer to be up if I was going to try it again?" Antony asks.

"Maybe, that depends on where you want me to be," Stephen looks up at Antony. He's still feeling a little stripped down, vulnerable. "It's a compliment right? That I go so deep. It's not a problem is it?"

"Not at all," Antony says with a chuckle. "I love it. It makes me so fucking happy - that I can do that to you, that you trust me to do it."

"It's frightening sometimes, if I over think it. That you have that power over me. That I go so deep that I don't always know what I'm doing, or saying, and I know when I'm down like that, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you," Stephen drops his gaze to their still joined hands. "It makes me sound broken, or weak or some shit."

"I don't think it does," Antony says, a little surprised this is coming to the fore. "You're incredibly strong and the fact that you let me put you down like that, that you're willing to go there, only makes you stronger in my eyes. You're not broken or weak and to be honest, if I thought you were, I wouldn't play this way with you. The reason I'm willing is because of how strong you are."

"Strong," Stephen rolls the word around his mouth, he gives his head a little shake and presses closer into Antony's embrace. "How far could you push me? How far would I go?" he muses quietly, partly to himself, but also to Antony. _What wouldn't I do for you?_

"Do you really want to find out?" Antony asks, hugging him tight.

"Maybe, some day. When would you stop?" Stephen's fingers find skin and he rubs them against it like Antony's a talisman.

"I don't know," Antony answers honestly, smiling softly at the touch. "It's not something I'd want to do all at once. I'd rather learn you better, be really attuned with how you behave and react before I push that hard, and even then... I'd want some safeguards in place. Not just your safeword because I'm not sure you could come up with it when you're that far down."

"No, no, I don't want to rush into anything. But if we're in this for the long haul...then yes we have time. We're still misstepping sometimes, things that only time and experience will iron out. And you're right, I might as well give you my safe word now, because I'm already past the point where I can use it." Stephen huffs out a breath and tilts his head back to look at his Sir and lover with wide blue eyes.

Christ. Antony did not see that coming and he stares into Stephen's eyes for a moment, not sure he's entirely keen on the idea, but then again, he already plays without safewords every time he goes outside the club. It's just doing this with his boy, with the man he loves, that has him hesitating, even though he knows he'll do everything within his power to make sure Stephen's safe. "Are you sure?"

"Not if you're not." Even though he's still a little disorientated from some seriously deep subspace Stephen can see hesitation in his lover's expression. "Sir, Antony, when you push me like you did today. There is no way I could use my word, even if I wanted to. So you should know that, we can leave it there if you need some time to think about it."

"No. I'm good with it," Antony says firmly, already having moved passed any misgivings. "If you're already unable to use it, it's better if I'm focusing completely on you and your physical reactions and not waiting for you to come up with a verbal cue for me to stop or slow down."

Stephen nods and tucks his face back into Antony's neck. "This, this is not playing out how I expected you know. You and me," the words are soft but clear. "Not at all."

"But you're okay with that?" Antony says, wrapping his arms tighter around his lover.

"Yeah, makes my head spin if I think about it too much, but yeah," Stephen's eyes close and he simply savours being held. "You're amazing, too good to be true amazing, and you picked me." _Of all the boys you could have had...and you chose me..._

"I like to think we picked each other," Antony murmurs, smiling, "but it felt right."

"Hmm, I like this finishing early business, means we still have plenty of time tonight before I have to crash," Stephen rubs his cheek against Antony's chest.

Antony smiles. "You still up for a movie and ice cream?"

"Always up for ice cream, I'm good for a movie so long as there is an opportunity for some non kink sex before sleep," Stephen turns his head and drops a kiss over the skin there. "Something gentle."

"Making love?" Antony teases, recalling Stephen's reaction when he used the words in Fiji.

Stephen smiles against skin before tilting his head back to look up, his brow lifts. "Well it is now, huh?"

Antony nods, his heart doing that strange fucking flutter in his chest. "Yeah." He kisses Stephen on the mouth. "Let me get rid of our trays and grab your ice cream."

Stephen lets go, reluctantly. He watches his lover leave the room, laden down with the detritus of their meal. He wriggles his way under the covers and drops the throw over the edge. His ass and hips ache, but in a deliciously wicked way, he'll still be feeling that fuck tomorrow.

Besides quickly cleaning up in the kitchen, Antony takes a minute to change out of his clothes and throw on the pj bottoms he was wearing that morning. He checks his phone, quickly scanning his messages and voicemails and then grabs Stephen's ice cream from the fridge, a tea towel wrapped around the pint of ice cream and spoon laid on top. "Here you go," he says with a grin, handing it over.

Stephen makes no effort to take the ice cream, he quirks a brow in question. "Are you not going to feed your very good boy?" he flirts a little. He likes this look on Antony, low slung cotton pjs, casual, relaxed.

"Sure. I can do that," Antony says softly, wondering how much of the movie they're going to make it through if he does. He climbs back onto the bed and settles in beside Stephen, digging the spoon into the one side of the ice cream, brownies in chocolate ice cream, and offering it to his boy.

Sucking the ice cream off the spoon, Stephen makes a happy noise as the chocolate flavour rolls over his tongue. "Hmmmmmm," he flashes Antony a mischievous look as he lets it melt. "Good choice," he murmurs.

Sure enough, Antony cock twitches sharply at that, watching his boy take the ice cream from the spoon, the 'naughty' look he gives him. Fuck. He scoops a bite out from the other side, blond brownies in vanilla ice cream, and offers it up. "And this?"

It's good, but it's not chocolate. "A pleasant counterpoint, but it's not cocoa based," Stephen grins, as he licks over his bottom lip.

Antony laughs. "Okay, how about this? Close your eyes and open your mouth," he says, scooping out a spoonful of the soft salted caramel core.

He gives Antony a look. "No cock," he teases before closing his eyes, and opening his mouth. When the spoon enters his mouth he knows it's caramel and he grins around the spoon as he sucks it. _Perfect!_

Antony grins, watching Stephen. "So, did I do a good job choosing?"

"Don't you always?" Stephen opens his eyes. "Not once have you got it wrong, I'm feeling spectacularly well looked after, cherished, just like I asked for," he adds softly.

This time Antony's chest tightens and he wonders if it'll ever stop when Stephen looks at him that way. "I couldn't do anything but cherish you," he responds every bit as softly.

Stephen grins, warm and wide. "And you do it so well," he retorts, "With your big soft heart, and your big hard dick, and your wicked twisted mind."

Antony gets a kick out of that. "You realize you and my nieces are the only ones in the world who think I have a big soft heart."

"Then you should show it more..." Stephen murmurs, reaching up to trace a finger over Antony's mouth, but then he frowns a little. "Or is that something you can't do?"

"Not really," Antony says, thinking of the men - and women - he deals with on a regular basis, "but that's fine. I don't mind. It makes being with you somewhere I can relax - a break from everything else."

"Somewhere you can be a big soft hearted guy who should be spoon feeding his lover ice cream before it melts?" Stephen prompts with a smile, soft and teasing.

"Yup." Antony laughs and spoons up another biteful of ice cream, mixing all three flavours this time. "I have a feeling we might never make it to watching that movie." Not that he really cares.

"What movie?" Stephen asks a little too innocently as he sucks the ice cream from the proffered spoon.

///

They actually do end up watching the movie, although watching might be too strong a word given the amount of kissing, joking and ice cream feeding that goes on. But finally the last bit passes with Stephen in Antony's arms, head against his chest, an easy silence falling over them both. Antony can't help yawning when the credits roll though and he kisses the top of Stephen's head. "You still awake?"

"Just about," Stephen murmurs, he's been very happy indeed laying here in Antony's arms. He's a big guy, so to fit so comfortably against another man is to be savoured. "We going to go back to our bed?" he asks, referring to the fact it's the guest bed they're currently lounging in.

"Yeah, we should," Antony says, the words ending on another yawn. "Sorry. You go ahead and I'll be there in a minute."

"'kay," Stephen crawls out of bed, reluctant to leave the warm nest they've made. He picks up the throw and trails it after him as he heads to the main bedroom - he tosses the throw on the bed and makes his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth and take his before-bed-piss.

Antony tidies up the guestroom and takes the rest of their garbage to the kitchen, the almost-silent dishwasher turned on and the garbage tossed down the chute by the lift.

By the time Antony appears, Stephen's put on one bedside light and wormed his way under the covers, turned so he can look out the huge windows to the lights of the city laid out beneath them.

Antony makes quick use of the bathroom then joins Stephen in bed, his pajama bottoms shoved in the top drawer of his nightstand. "I'm still getting used to finding you in my bed," he says with a smile, pressing close, one hand on Stephen's hip as he leans in to kiss him.

Winding his arms around Antony's neck, Stephen tugs him in closer. "Nowhere I'd rather be," he murmurs against Antony's mouth, kissing him back, soft and sweet.

Antony deepens the kiss, tongue delving into Stephen's mouth, his cock hardening between them. He pushes Stephen onto his back, moving between his thighs, their cocks pressed together, bodies aligned.

Even now, when they're not really in role, Antony manhandles him, and Stephen loves it. Pressed onto his back he splays legs, making space for his lover's hips and when Antony is settled, he wraps his ankles over the back of Antony's calves, a subtle 'I don't want you going anywhere' move. His hands roam across the broad expanse of his lover's shoulders, nails scratching lightly as he lays himself open to whatever his man wants to take from him.

Making soft sounds of encouragement for the scrape of nails and the way Stephen's touching him, Antony lays a path along Stephen's jaw to his throat to his collarbone, kisses pressed everywhere he can reach. He slips downward in his lover's embrace, mouth on his nipples, sucking lightly then more firmly, teeth teasing the flesh into rigid peaks.

"Mmmm," Stephen hums out his pleasure, his body responding to each and every caress. One hand rests on top of his lover's head, his fingers bent as he scratches at his scalp, the other hand kneading at one muscular shoulder. "Tony..." he breathes, hips shifting as he tries to press upward. "Tony please..."

"Please what?" Antony teases, head barely lifted before he's moving lower again, lips and tongue and teeth moving over chest, ribs, abs, tracing hard muscle under smooth skin, moving closer and closer to the cock straining for his attention.

Stephen's eyes nearly roll when Antony nibbles at the thin skin over his hip. "Please....please I don't want you d...down there, can't kiss..." Stephen rambles. "Hold..."

Another time Antony might ignore those pleas, but not tonight, not after earlier. He moves back up, draping himself over Stephen, reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer. "You don't want my mouth on your cock?" he teases softly.

A shake of his head, and a soft "No," Stephen cups the side of Antony's face. "I want your mouth so I can kiss you."

Chest tightening at the words, his hand still wrapped around the lube, Antony drops down fully, giving Stephen his mouth, his lips soft and warm.

Stephen accepts the kiss, returns it in equal measure, his arms around Antony's shoulder, his hands stroking the back of Antony's head.

Smiling, Antony draws back just enough to get the lube open, his fingers slicked. He shifts to one side, still kissing Stephen, making enough room to get his hand between Stephen's thighs, fingers stroking over his hole, teasing it open before he pushes two inside.

"Won't need much, even for you..." Stephen murmurs against Antony's mouth, he lets out a low noise of pleasure, the fingers of his hand tightening on the back of Antony's neck.

"Good. I can't wait to be inside you," Antony whispers, biting softly at Stephen's lips, a third finger added for good measure, stretching Stephen just a little bit more before he pulls out and lines up, blunt head nudging against his lover's body.

Stephen wraps his legs higher up, tilting his pelvis to give Antony all the room he needs. "Now..." he urges, hands gliding down the taut muscles of his lover's back. "Now Tony," he groans when Antony pushes, bears down, and tilts his head back, exposing his neck as those first few inches work their way into his body.

Antony groans, rocking into Stephen in small shallow movements, the tight heat of his lover's body making his head swim. "Oh, fuck..." he murmurs. "You feel so good." And it's true. Nothing's ever been this good. Ever. He's never felt like a lover's body was _made_ for him, for his cock, to take every fraction of every inch so completely.

Stephen's hands don't stop moving, kneading, scratching, urging Antony on as he moves into him, finally his lover is fully seated, his hips snug up against Stephen's butt. "That never gets old," he huffs out, his words amused, though soft. "That first penetration, always blows my mind."

"I love how you take my cock..." Antony grins, bracing himself on his forearms, hips slowly working back and forth, savouring how hot and tight Stephen feels wrapped around him. "I was going to say so easily but that just sounds wrong."

"Wrong? After all the things you usually call me?" Stephen teases, his breath hitching every so often as Antony hits that tender patch inside his ass with each thrust.

"That's when I'm fucking you," Antony points out, chuckling softly, pushing up to his hands so he can pull right out to the tip before pushing back in, as slowly as he can stand, his eyes locked on Stephen's face.

"So what will you call me now you're not fucking me?" Stephen asks, his fingers trailing up Antony's sides and down again. He's being mischievous, flirting and it shows in the way his eyes sparkle.

"I might just stick with _mine_ since it applies either way," Antony teases back, dropping down to kiss Stephen on the mouth, a low groan spilling from him as the heat at the base of his spine starts to burn hotter, coil tighter.

Stephen's done with talking now, he opens his mouth and kisses Antony back with all that he's feeling, and because he's learning his new lover so well he knows this is _exactly_ the time to employ the bite of his nails as he draws them hard down Antony's back, scoring the skin.

Cock throbbing violently, Antony shivers with pleasure and picks up his rhythm, steadily thrusting harder, every muscle tightening as he rocks into his lover, the intensity building, his orgasm _right there_. But he wants to hold out, wants this to last as long as it can, wants to stay here, inside Stephen, in this moment, forever.

He knows how close Antony is, it's writ in every tense, trembling line of his body. Stephen nuzzles into his lover's neck, kisses the salty sweat skin moving his mouth down to the meaty pad of his shoulder and then sucks up a mouthful of flesh and bites down - wanting that to be what tips Antony over. Pain with his pleasure.

It tears a strangled shout from Antony's throat and he drives into Stephen, orgasm crashing over him, hips pumping, cock spurting heavily inside his lover.

The way Antony orgasms, the raw energy of it makes Stephen cling tighter, a sense of power washes over him, _he_ made his lover cum like that, made Antony come totally undone in his arms. _He_ did that. He presses kisses against whatever skin he can reach, and his hands slip over the sweaty skin of Antony's back.

Panting softly, Antony whispers, "You didn't come yet. What do you want? My hand, my mouth?" Not wanting to lose the moment. Not when Stephen didn't come earlier either.

"Stay in me, use your hand," Stephen murmurs back, licking salt from Antony's skin, his legs still hooked around his lover's not wanting to let go any time soon.

Leaning on one forearm, Antony slips his hand between them, fingers wrapping around Stephen's cock, stroking firmly, his own cock still throbbing inside him. "You are so beautiful," he whispers, kissing along Stephen's throat, along the leather adorning it.

It doesn't take much, despite the fact he hadn't felt that close, it doesn't take more than half a dozen firm strokes before Stephen's nails are digging into Antony's skin, his breath stuttering in his throat as he whines, body trying to arch up. "Nnnnnnghh!!!"

Antony groans in response, cock pulsing so hard he'd almost swear he was going to come again. "Yeah, that's it," he whispers, licking at Stephen's throat, teeth teasing over his skin, a reminder always there, in the back of his head, that he _can't_ mark his lover like Stephen does him.

Shaking Stephen goes limp, grateful of the solid weight of Antony to ground him. Eyes closed he licks over his lips, breath uneven. "Oh man...fuck..." he breathes out, his fingers back to dancing over his lover's skin, rather than scoring it.

"Yeah." Antony nods in agreement, a soft kiss placed at the corner of his lover's mouth. "I know what you mean," he grins, thrilled by the fact that he's still inside Stephen and doesn't have to move.

"I know it's trite, but fuck, you are the best fucking sex I've ever had," Stephen murmurs as he cracks open his eyes and gives Antony a slow, sexy smile.

Antony's grin widens at that, his eyes crinkling at their corners. "Same goes for you with me."

Stephen's eyes widen at that, "From you? That's some compliment, seen as you've you know, been around." Humour colours his voice.

"That's one way of putting it," Antony says with a laugh. "But yes, you are. The things I like? That I _really_ like? You wouldn't believe how rare it is to find someone as into those things as I am. Who's not just putting up with them for me. Or who's not so fucking damaged that I don't want to play with them that way. I meant what I said earlier about seeing you as strong," he continues, need to make sure Stephen really hears him. "I need that in a partner. If I'm going to tear you down the way we both get off on, I want to be able to put you back together fairly easily. I don't ever want to be risking any real injury to you. People worry so much about physical harm, about a broken bone or a dislocated shoulder, but it's the mental stuff that does the most harm, that really stays with someone."

"You've nothing to worry about, sure I sometimes wobble, like I did earlier tonight, but you guided me through that. And the way you put me down, the way you spit those words...it's so fucking hot Tony, no one's pushed me like that." Stephen lifts his head to plant a kiss on his lover's mouth. "All I keep thinking is about how far we can go," he grins.

"Me too," Antony grins back, shifting his weight a little, his softening cock starting to slip from Stephen's body. "You want to grab a shower or are we good like this?"

"I'm not getting out of bed again," Stephen protests. "I'm in for the night, I don't care how drenched in jizz I am," he peers down between them where his own semen is smeared over their bellies.

Antony laughs. "I'm good with it if you are," he says, shifting once more, out of Stephen and lying down beside him, his lover pulled into his arms. "I love my dirty boy."

"And I'm exceedingly fond of my awesome Sir," Stephen wriggles in close, half draping himself over Antony's torso. "'specially if he makes me breakfast again," he yawns, closing his eyes.


End file.
